Calling All Rangemen
by RobinL
Summary: It is a special day at Rangeman. Lester is being flirty, Ranger is getting jealous and Stephanie has an excess of jelly doughnut hormones. What will happen?


**Title**: Calling all Rangemen

**Author**: Robin

**Disclaimer**: Y'all know they're not mine. I'm not foolin' anyone.

**A/N**: My husband sent me a video, and well, this is where my muse took it. I placed the link for the video on my profile page in case you want to check it out. This also qualifies for Rosa's challenge (prompt in italics). Set post EOT, Steph is still working at Rangeman.

**Paring**: My muse totally highjacked this one, it was supposed to be Babe, but Lester snuck in there somehow. It still may end up Babe though, I haven't decided. I'm open to feedback!

**Rating**: R

**Part 1**

There was a surprising buzz of energy when I arrived on the control room floor to start my shift. It was unusual for nine in the morning. Around Rangeman, you were more likely to see this sort of thrumming excitement on the flipside of the day as the men geared up for an operation. In this business, most of the major takedowns happened after dark when guards were down (even the bad guys had to drink, screw and sleep sometime) or when the criminal element got up to their most nefarious plots and we could catch them in the act.

The morning shift was usually the quietest, with the few men on monitor duty sucking down caffeinated beverages at a rate that would have me in the restroom all morning. I didn't even want to know how the men around here managed to sit in front of a bank of monitors for three hours after a half dozen Red Bulls without taking a bathroom break. The possibilities were all… disturbing.

This morning was not quiet. Every cubby was full, every available chair at the monitors was spoken for and more Merry Men were perching on the corners of desks, milling about in the hallways and hanging around the break room.

I scanned the activity with a perplexed frown. I'd never realized how many Merry Men there were. Or maybe it was just their sheer size that made it seem like I was working as part of a battalion. I made my way to my little corner having to squeeze through the aisles, ducking under muscled arms, brushing against rock-hard abs and skirting around buns of steel. It was a damned shame I was here on a 'look, but don't touch' arrangement. These men were every red-blooded woman's fantasy.

I tossed my purse into my desk drawer and looked around for someone to pump for information. At that moment, Lester walked past the opening to my workspace, juggling a cup of coffee and a pastry, all of it looking incredibly edible, him included. Oh, yeah, I would definitely pump him for something if I had the chance. His body or his breakfast.

The only thing I lusted after more than these men, in their tight black t-shirts and butt hugging cargos, was sugar. I'd eliminated all sugar from my diet a few months ago and since I'd broken up with Joe and was without sexual outlet, well, let's just say my jelly doughnut was fixing to explode. My first thought had been to get Ranger to help me out in that department, but he was making himself scarce. I was starting to think that it wouldn't matter too much who I turned to as long as he had all the necessary equipment or a box of Tasteykakes.

"Lester," I called out, checking the drool that could have been a product of the heavenly smelling sticky bun or the bulge of biceps that threatened the integrity of Lester's sleeves. Probably both.

Lester immediately stopped and stepped into my cubicle. "Morning, Beautiful," he said with a grin as he took in my glazed gaze following every move of his breakfast. He flashed me a full-wattage smile, and waved the pastry in front of my nose, waves of warm cinnamon aroma wafting over me. My eyes unfocused and my breathing became labored at the thought of sinking my teeth into the succulent folds of doughy goodness and licking the sticky-sweet syrup from Lester's fingers.

"Christ, Bombshell," Lester said, swallowing hard, glancing around furtively. "Your going to get me killed if you don't stop that."

"Stop what," I said, hardly recognizing the breathy tone I was using.

His voice was strangled when he said, "Licking your lips and, hell, eyeing me like you want me to be made of pastry dough."

I shook my head, blinked and tried to focus my eyes and my attention. I realized I'd backed him up against the wall of my cubicle and I took a hasty step backwards so I wasn't plastered up against all that caramel-y skin and cinnamon-y sticky bun. "Sorry, Lester. Sugar withdrawal." I didn't want to get into the whole sex withdrawal thing.

"Listen, Sweetheart, I'm not saying I'm not interested. I'm just not sure the boss would let me live long enough to enjoy it." He grinned and held out the pastry to me. "Do you want this? I can get another from the break room."

I laughed and put more distance between me and the dangerously confusing combination of Lester and sweet treat. "No, thanks, Les. I've been doing really well actually; I just wasn't prepared for the temptation."

He popped the bun into his mouth and washed it down with a swallow of coffee. "Better?" he asked.

I nodded and tried to ignore my body's response to the sight of his tongue licking the crumbs from his fingertips. One temptation down, one to go. I looked away and tried to think of something to divert my attention from the thought of kissing Lester so I could vicariously enjoy the sugary delicacy he'd just swallowed. "So, ah, does Ranger know you guys are sullying his holy ground with junk food?"

"Oh, he knows all about it. It's a Ranger sanctioned event. An annual tradition." He took a step toward me, eying my cleavage and no doubt seeing the effect he was having on my nipples. Now that I'd backed off from Lester and was trying to control my jelly-doughnut-hormones, he was starting to advance. Typical, I mentally snorted. He just couldn't resist the chase.

I put my desk chair between us for both of our safety, making Lester's smile broaden in response. "I was wondering what was up. I don't think I've seen this many Merry Men under one roof before."

"Nobody misses Audition Day. It's an official Rangeman holiday. Better than Christmas." Lester's eyes were lit up like a kid in a candy store or like Lula when faced with a Macy's shoe sale.

Audition Day. I'd heard it mentioned a few times in passing, but I hadn't paid that much attention. Sounded like Rangeman was getting ready to put on a play or something. I'd just laughed at the picture of these guys up on stage spouting off Shakespeare or singing show tunes and decided Audition Day must be something else. Whatever it was, I'd definitely missed the memo that today was the day. "What is it?" I asked.

Lester just smiled. "It cannot be explained. It must be experienced. By the end of the day you'll understand why no one would miss it."

I could feel my brow pucker "And if everyone is here, who's working?"

"We have a few contract workers on the essential jobs, but pretty much we shut down for the day."

My mouth dropped open. That just couldn't be. Rangeman was operational 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Most accounts were monitored around-the-clock. "And Ranger approves of this?"

"Hell, it was his idea the first year," he said with a shrug. "It was so popular and good for morale it became an annual thing."

I looked at my empty in-box and back at Lester. "If no one is working, what am I supposed to do all day?"

"Oh, we'll keep you entertained, Bomber. Come on, I've got a front row seat." He grabbed my hand and tugged me behind him to the conference room.

While Lester and I were talking, all but a couple of guys had moved from the control room floor into the conference room. I'd never seen the men who were left behind at the monitors, so I figured they were the poor, left-out, contract workers.

The large conference room usually held several long tables, pushed together to comfortably seat a group of twenty Rangemen. Today the tables had been cleared from the room and in their place were rows of chairs all facing the giant projector screen at one end.

The noise level was just below _roar_ as the men joked with each other, slapping backs and doing other manly things. I trailed behind Lester as he guided us to the front, my hand still firmly held in his. He settled into an empty chair next to Bobby and pulled me onto his lap.

Wrapped his arms around my waist, Lester pulled me back so my softness was molded to every one of his hard angles. It was very cozy and the fluttering in my stomach was hardly a platonic response to touching him. Lester's rock-hard arousal pressing into my ass wasn't particularly platonic either.

"Hey, Bomber," Bobby said, pulling on my ponytail. "You trying to get Lester killed?"

"Uh, no," I said, stiffening as I prepared to slip off Lester's lap. But his arm tightened around my waist, anchoring me firmly against him.

"Stay," Lester whispered against my neck, causing a shiver to chase down my spine.

"I thought you were afraid for your life," I returned quietly, my head turned toward him.

He tilted his head to the side and stared at me for a long moment. The look in his eyes said that if we weren't in a room full of mercenaries loyal to Ranger, his lips would be on mine. His voice was a husky caress when he answered, "I'm thinking it would be worth the risk."

Lester moved his hand on my waist so that it was splayed over my ribs, his thumb brushing against the underside of my breast. Around us, the Merry Men were conversing and joking, wrapped up in their own conversations. Bobby had turned to his other side and was telling Hal some story about a large-breasted woman if I was reading his hand gestures right. Lester and I were in our own private world in the midst of all the commotion. He moved his thumb once, twice, against my breast, each light stroke bring him closer to my straining nipple. I was torn between a strong desire to drag him to a corner of this building that wasn't being monitored and letting him just feel me up right here, audience or no. When I caught myself about to moan, I realized I had to put a stop to this, no matter what either of us wanted. "Knock it off, Santos," I said through gritted teeth, aiming a pointy elbow for his ribs.

Lester oof-ed when I made contact with him and rubbed his side. But he chuckled good-naturedly, "Easy, Sweetheart. I'll be good." He moved his hand to more neutral territory, squeezing me in a hug.

I shifted, trying to get more comfortable without hurting him and said, "I should move. I'm too heavy."

"You're perfect," Lester replied, settling back in the chair. "Besides there aren't any good seats left."

I looked around and he was right. The room was wall-to-wall Rangemen. If there were any other seats, I'd be sitting in the back, behind mountains of Merry Men.

"If Lester can't handle you, I'm sure I can, Baby," Bobby said with a wink, catching the end of our conversation.

I rolled my eyes, but secretly enjoyed the attention. The last few months had been lonely.

The lights in the room dimmed and the conversations quieted immediately. I looked around, but didn't see Ranger or Tank. I still wasn't sure what was going on.

"Are you ready for this?" Bobby asked, his voice low.

"I have no idea what this is." I was starting to feel huffy that I didn't know what the hell the deal was. I hated to be left out.

"Just wait," Bobby whispered. "It's gonna be good."

I growled at Bobby and he just laughed.

Finally Lester took pity on me. "When Tank and Ranger interview new candidates for Rangeman, they have the guy demonstrate some of his skills. Now, you didn't have to do this because, I'm pretty sure the boss has seen your skills firsthand." I elbowed him again and he quickly clarified, "Your take down skills, Sweetheart. I don't want to know about any other skills he might have knowledge of." He said the last with enough conviction that I knew he wasn't joking and I decided to let it slide.

"Anyway," he went on, "early on they decided to video tape these auditions because some of them were pretty damned funny. Every year we kick off our employee appreciation day with the best of the worst. And that's how the day ended up being called Audition Day.

A moment later, the projector which was suspended from the ceiling came to life and a scrawny man appeared on the screen. He said, "You want me to show you tough? I'll show you tough." He then proceeded to clumsily beat on a training dummy. The dummy nearly won. The first time the man fell on his ass, a roar of laughter rolled through the audience. By the time he'd laid the dummy out and did a little victory dance, I had tears of laughter in my eyes. I'd rather have Grandma Mazur back me up. For real.

One after another, men who didn't have a chance in hell of making it in this business demonstrated their "skills." It was kind of sad and I would have felt sorry for them except they all seemed to honestly think they were good. Now I knew I couldn't have done half of that stuff if I'd tried, but I was very aware of that fact. These guys were delusional. Some fell on their asses, one fell on his face. There were flying kicks that completely missed their targets, a guy who did a back flip and ended up doing a face-plant. But it didn't look like anyone had any permanent damage. Well, maybe just the guy who nunchucked himself.

We were howling with laughter, holding our sides, falling out of our seats. At one point Cal was actually rolling on the floor, laughing his ass off, no joke. I was just trying to picture Ranger and Tank having to witness these displays of idiocy in person. I really felt sorry for the two of them having to watch these things firsthand and keep their blank faces in place.

After about a half-hour of this, the montage came to an end and the lights came up. The men immediately started to buzz about their favorite moments, but no one made a move to leave their seats. Throughout the video, Lester had held me tight, his laughter rumbling against me. I'd completely relaxed in his arms and now more than ever, I wanted to find out what his lips would feel like against mine. I tried to banish those kinds of thoughts from my head. My hormones were already standing up and saying 'howdy', they didn't need any encouragement.

"Uh, maybe I should get up," I said, starting to move.

I looked up at Lester and he smiled, "Just hang on, there's more."

Behind us, the men erupted into applause and I turned to look over Lester's shoulder. Ranger walked down the aisle toward the front of the room, smiling at his men, looking more relaxed than I'd ever seen him outside of the bedroom. That is, he was relaxed and happy until he got to the front of the room and saw me, sitting cozily on Lester's lap.

I felt Lester tense underneath me as Ranger's blank mask slammed into place and his posture tensed. He avoided looking at me altogether, instead pinning Lester with a cold stare.

The tension mounted and I was praying somebody would do something, say something to diffuse the situation. When I realized that no one was going to come to my rescue this time, I took matters into my own hands, "_I know it may not seem like it, but there is a rational explanation_."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

A/N: What do you think? More? Less? This went completely out of my control. Apparently my muse needed some Lester lovin'. I'm totally open to suggestions on this, though. Let me know what you'd like to see happen next or if you rather I leave it right there.


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